


Distortions of Fate

by ZetaSol



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, Warhammer Fantasy
Genre: Dimension Travel, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-10
Updated: 2020-03-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:35:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23091934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZetaSol/pseuds/ZetaSol
Summary: The world is in utter turmoil. Armies of Chaos descend upon every nation and the Empire alone prepares for the coming of Archaon. The Asur to the west are too hard-pressed to help any other nation as they remain in constant conflict with their northern kin. The Dawi themselves take shelter in their mountains and remain shadows of their former selves, struggling to regain the lands they lost as they protect what little they hold.The Undead, Greenskin, and Skaven hordes grow amass as they take advantage of the mayhem, but most remain well aware of what the tides of Chaos would bring.Amid all this, a substantial amount of the winds of Magic gather around a single, central point near the Shrine of Khaine. It creates a maelstrom comparable to the Great Vortex, but on a smaller, concentrated scale.Out of it tumbles a very unexpected duo that could thwart the tapestries of fate and halt this world's untimely doom.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 12





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry. I did as much research in the WHF world as I could, but I didn't read the books. I mostly relied on reddit, wiki, and games.
> 
> And yes, I upscaled the dragons in both WHF and the Elder Scrolls a lot more to match lore (somewhat).

The grounds of Nirn quaked. Thunder and lightning wrought its darkened skies. Shouts and cries shook the very air as vicious shockwaves bounced to and fro.

 _"Vah koor!"_ a light voice boomed across the world. Moments passed and it bent to its will, the grey-clouded skies giving way and fading until clear blue ones took their place. Bright sunlight began glinting off the puddles and wet dirt, glistening with mixed grandeur until suddenly, and without warning, an enormous shadow whisked by, quick as one could blink.

The subtle scent of oak and flowers in the wind would've been pleasant, if not for the overbearing stench of char.

 **_"Dovahkiin!"_ ** another voice followed, deep and inhumane. It hummed with power, but whoever the owner was, they had long since disappeared behind the massive expanse of a snow-capped mountain. 

Down below a noticeably peculiar figure could be seen amid a field of broken trees, clad in cloaked dragonscale armor. Long riveted scales ran across the sleeves of their arms, an almost blazing golden sword rested at their hip, and a shining golden bow and shield sat on their back. Their face remained obscure though, darkened by the bony and dangerous looking helmet they wore.

"Get down here!" It was feminine voice, almost soft, but it held authority.

 **_"Zu'u fen ni qiilaan_ ** **(I will not submit)** ** _!"_ ** the other shouted back.

The figure sighed as they stepped over the wooden carnage, "By _Auri-El_ …" and planted a foot onto a tree stump, letting sunlight give way to their face. It unveiled that they were in fact a woman—elven too—and with a disgruntled expression upon her fair and golden face, she brandished her enchanted blade and shouted, "I swear I’ll snatch you from the skies you so adore!"

Her eyes seemed to glow as she began casting spells and enchantments upon herself, subtly waving her hand in the air ever so elegantly and effortlessly, as if practiced millions of times. Gripped in her other hand, she held the mythical Dawnbreaker, known to be responsible for the undoing of hundreds—if not thousands—of undead. Its razor sharp edges discharged constant sparks of flame and it radiated with holy light. To the owner though, its use disgruntled her. The Dragonbane would have been far more useful in this situation, but she lost it not too long ago, its blade broken when sliced into the scales of the World Eater.

 _It did its job though,_ she thought. _Hopefully the Blades have a decent smith._

With bated breath she waited for her _Thu'um_ to recover. Small thoughts raced across her mind as she did, all anticipating the next bout with her opponent. 

And as always, like a ritual, she continued to remind herself that she had been through this before hundreds and thousands of times. She had fought numerous beings, strong, large, and some out of this world. This was no different, she knew exactly what to do—she shouldn't have been worried at all—and for any lingering thoughts she chastised herself. Yet, with every fight always remained the question that it could be her last. She couldn't count the times she'd been lucky, whether it be by a stray arrow scraping past the soft flesh of her throat, or a blade barely missing her vital organs. She remembered all her past luck with vivid imagery and would never forget them. They were why she personally forged her armor at the Skyforge and why she fought every battle tooth and nail.

This could end up being it—her end—whether she's offed because of a simple slip-up or just gored out of sheer luck. So many painful ways to go out, all ending in death or fates far worse. She'd even seen it all too; so many of her past friends and allies had died under her watch. If she lived through this, she'd live with immense gratitude. She'd use her powers until she couldn't anymore. Until the day she died she would try to change the world for the better.

Her delicate brows eased upwards. "... If only you followed _Paarthurnax…_ " she mumbled regretfully.

The creature behind the mountain roared and swung around the white peak. Finally out in plain sight, the source of the monstrous voice was revealed to be no other than a mighty dragon, with scales as grey as stormy clouds and streaks of blue as ethereal as the very sky.

He spoke to her in _Dov_ as he flew over her, his size enormous enough to blot out the sun, **_"Zu'u fen neh kreh wah ok thur_ ** **(I will never submit to his tyranny)** ** _."_ **

The elf furrowed her brows at his reaction, wondering how he even heard her and noting his disapproval of her old dragon friend. Though she revered dragons for their age and wisdom, this was still one of many who stayed malevolent.

" _Rok hdro changaan_ (He has changed) _,_ " she replied fluently in _Dov_.

The dragon's frown deepened as well. **_"Dovah neh changa_** **.** **_Muh neh fen. Mu were kiin wa kino_ ** **(Dragons never change. We never will. We were created to rule)** ** _."_ **

The dragon then flew upwards in the air, twirling into the sky and parting the clouds with its flawless grace and control. The air howled as this force of immortal nature tore through it and the thin straits and clouds swirled around him like a vortex. The _Aedra_ then spread his magnificent wings and slowed down to a steady beat. High in the sky did he remain, hovering at least a mile above the elven Dragonborn on the ground. He clouded the sun from her view as if trying to prove his point by looking down upon her like some sort of insect.

For a moment, and because of his words, she faltered, her mind falling back to doubt and some part of her in compliance with him; dragons had ruled for almost the entire _Merethic Era_ after all. They fled from _Akavir_ to _Tamriel_ because their hold waned and the first thing they did was conquer. _Alduin_ was the strongest, the firstborn, and with him gone as the almighty leader, _Paarthurnax_ could be the next in their line to rule. He was technically the strongest dragon in existence now.

_And only the Gods know how cunning he is._

She shook her head. These thoughts lasted for only a moment. She knew that what he said wasn't particularly true. _Paarthurnax_ had changed—she felt it in her very _Dov_ soul—and she knew that they could change. Though many were… absorbed, many had begun redeeming themselves before her, now living in peace and isolation. Dragons themselves weren't inherently tyrannical. They were all _Aedra_ , and shards of what was once whole: Time.

The dragon narrowed its icy blue eyes. **_"Ruz hi lost spaan fah rok ol Kyne drey_ ** **(Then you have fallen for him just as Kyne had)** ** _."_ **

Before she could rebuke him or say something about him reading her mind, he dove down at her decisively.

 ** _"Hi luft Nahrahstrun faal Hirtkiin_** **.** ** _Lahvraan hin geinmaar Dovahkiin_** **(You face Nahrahstrun** **the Fourthborn. Prepare yourself Dragonborn)!"**

He drew close, and as he did the elf noticed just how large he was; he was clearly larger than Paarthurnax and perhaps even the World Eater himself.

" ** _Nust ont bele zu'u Rah se Venne._ ** **(They once named me God of the Winds),** **"** he said. **_"_ _H_** ** _i fen nu koraav faal goltte fah tol_** **(You will now see why)** ** _._** **"**

She squinted her eyes at the enlarging dragon as it drew closer and closer with her every breath. It was only when she could see the rough lines of his scales that she prepared to shout and the Fury of the Storms was intent on the very same.

 _"_ **_Wuld…_ ** _"_

_"Feim…"_

_"_ **_Nah Kest!"_ **

_"Zii Gron!"_

Both of them shouted at nearly the same time and the shockwaves of their voices collided, causing the world to tremble. The dragon moved at seemingly impossible speeds in this instant, his body turning into a blur as he smashed into the spot where the Dragonborn stood. The force of this was enough to level a small mountain. Lumber and dirt flew everywhere. Clouds of dust and debris scattered across the area. For a time, the world seemed to stop, but this moment ceased when the tall _altmer_ appeared out of nowhere in the lingering dust. She was meters away from the impact, her figure blue, transparent and almost invisible to the naked eye, but there nonetheless in ghostly form. The dragon was carefully scrutinizing her. His eyes were blue, almost unnaturally so because of his glowing reptilian pupils. After the clouds of the impact finally settled, her etherealness expired and she returned to her physical form. Despite the impact resulting in an enormous crater he was unharmed and so was she.

" _Hi lost mul qahles_ (You have strong scales)," she remarked in _dov_ , smirking.

Nahrahstrun formed something akin to a smile as his mouth curved, fangs menacingly protruding through his lips.

" ** _Zu'ull ofan dii pah_** **.** **_Zu'ull ni treat hi folaasi._ ** **(I'll not treat you wrongly. I'll give my all).** "

She laughed and asked in basic Tamrielic, "But you come to the ground on your own accord?"

" **I dare do so because this is now my domain,"** he said back.

Her smile froze as his grew even wider and savage-like. It was only then that she sensed great concentrations of magicka swirling around her, converging on the dragon before her. 

He shouted once more, _"_ ** _Wahl Golt Su!_ ** _"_

Then the ground beneath her rumbled, the winds screeched as they began rushing past the trees, moving at velocities unimaginable,

and Nirn moved.

She watched as the landmasses, hills and mountains beyond the horizon sunk from view, as if the world itself was disappearing, and the clouds too seemed to close their distance. But she knew they weren’t sinking and the clouds weren't either. She was rising along with a giant chunk of Nirn. The dragon's chest subtly rose with pride as he watched the Dragonborn silently panic to his amusement.

" ** _Mu wundun wah faal lokke, nidviing dovah._ ** **(We take to the skies, wingless dragon).** "

As they rose the air thinned and the temperature dropped. These were strenuous conditions, more so than the conditions at the Throat of the World. Though finding her breathing growing harder and harder to do, and her mind running through the unerringly numerous ways she could die, the high elf remained still, calculating, trying to retain some semblance of calm in the midst of a storm. She could easily fall to her death if she wasn’t careful, ending up splat on the ground like any other ordinary mortal. Her soul was _Dov,_ but her body was not. And there were so many other things she was wholly unprepared for. She didn't think that there’d be another dragon that could match Alduin's caliber and this one was cunning and nearly as powerful. He was beyond dangerous. 

**“I quite enjoyed our verbal banter,”** he said. 

She cursed silently, berating herself. Yet again she was facing another so-called forgotten God, but this time it was without help, nor was it on her own terms. Yet again she rushed into a situation she should’ve looked into further.

 _But how was he so strong?_ she wondered. _Not even Paarthurnax could do this with such ease!_

She had to give it her all. It’d be pathetic if she died here.

“... All this because of a stupid rumor…” she mumbled. "What have I gotten myself into."

She took her shield off her back and faced the dragon with strengthened resolve. Unflinching and without another moment's rest, she charged the majestic beast, but before she could even land her first blow, a flash of bright light erupted out of nowhere. It consumed everything in sight and the world became nothing but a blank canvas. Time ceased to be and everything in existence was plunged into darkness. Her consciousness rapidly faded away, but as it did, the _Altmer's_ last thoughts were of home...

 _… of the city,_ _Sentinel of Hammerfell and of… the glorious Isles…_

They were only flashes—static paintings and dreams of past glory—but memories nonetheless.

The time that passed afterwards was strange. It felt instantaneous to her, but she knew that wasn’t so. And the state that she was in? She was alive, and yet she wasn’t. Something had changed and whatever that something was, she didn’t know. She only continued to wait patiently in this dreamlike state. 

Floating… and floating…

The Elven Dragonborn continued teetering on the edge of unconsciousness, her vision black and her phantom-like eyes firmly shut. She could still feel her tightly strapped garments and armour, but that was it. There was nothing else—not even the slightest breeze to brush by—and the weight of her armor was nonexistent, almost like it had become a part of her. All was quiet. Soon, a calm peace slowly overtook her, from her body to her soul. It was a peace that she had never felt before, but it was due to that particular peace that she knew what it was. It was a peace that every true _Altmer_ would know at their due time. It was as if finally, she was returning to Aetherius.

Very quickly though, would she be ripped away from this false fantasy. Slowly, the sensations of reality returned to her, oozing life back into her body like a neverending curse. It was the curse of her duties, for she was the last Dragonborn. She was Dovahkiin, the chosen of Auri-El—otherwise known as Akatosh—sent to complete a mission she still couldn't figure out.

The first sense to return to her was smell and it was surprisingly pleasant. It was one of a warm summer evening's breeze along a sandy beach. As she breathed it in bit by bit, she slowly cracked a soft smile that she didn’t even know she could do.

The second that came was her sight. When her eyes opened ever so slightly, she saw a blue canvas spread out before her with no end in sight, as if it were infinite, but her eyes couldn't open any further. To do so would strain her eyes for there was too much light.

Then came her hearing. She could only hear the winds, but they funneled into her ears, and clouded all her other senses, almost cutting her happy thoughts. Her smile weakened. It wasn't painful, but it was uncomfortable enough to instill a seed of nervousness in her heart. 

_What's happening to me?_ she thought.

The fourth and last to be restored was actual physical sensation, and it practically assaulted her. She felt the winds whipping her garments, pushing up against her face, and the pull of gravity dragging her down by force. Her eyes widened. It was then that she knew what was happening.

She was falling.

With her eyes and her mind now fully understanding the situation, she turned her sight downcast and could barely stifle a gasp at what she saw. An enormous battle ensued below. It was between two clear sides near a coastline, with tiny figures clambering around a large piece of flat land. It was distant enough for them to be indiscernible and explosions of all sorts decorated the fields, but there was one figure she could make out much better through her blurry vision, much closer and clearer than the rest. It was a grey, blue-streaked dragon and it flew below her at wondrous speeds, but to her astonishment it was rapidly growing in size. It took her a moment to realize, but as she did, her eyes went as wide as a pair of twin moons.

 _It's him!_ she screamed inside, recognizing the sight of her previous foe. _And he's getting closer!_

She hastily attempted to Shout, "Fus!" but what came out was nothing but a dry heave. Any energy that it produced fizzled and dissipated into the air. She was shocked. There was no way her Voice could be exhausted at this point and time. Quickly, she moved to using her Magic, but at her attempt to cast a ward, it disappeared in an instant. 

_Even this feels drained_... 

She couldn't even produce a simple fire. There were no reserves of Magicka left. It was like squeezing a painfully dry towel. With her resources dwindling down to what was on her person, her panic rose to even greater heights as she scrambled to find her sword, shield, or anything to fight back, but neither were around, only her bow.

_And my quiver's empty!_

She would have palmed her forehead, but instead remained frozen with shock, taking in the situation. This was it. She was going to die and could barely put up a fight. Memories of her past flickered by and she sighed, defeated. After so much, after Alduin, after the Eye of Magnus, after the Elder Scrolls, and… so… so much more, this was how she was getting offed.

She took the bow off her back, trying to offer any kind of defense as she held it in front of her. Maybe she could stop the jaws from closing around her, but even then… he could just let her fall to her death.

 _Maybe I should've stayed a vampire,_ she joked in her mind. _I'd have wings._

She ground her teeth. _But at least I tried…_ Seeds of doubt grew, knowing that she didn't try enough, but they'd never mature. They were going to die along with her.

_I've lived pretty long anyways._

No tears came as the dragon neared—only acceptance—and she closed her dry eyes as she felt the air shift. She waited. And waited. But there was no pain, no _Dov_ teeth tearing her apart. There were just the winds as they continued to attack her painlessly. Then, against all expectations, she landed, except without as much impact as she expected. The winds shifted and the surface she landed on was also hard and oddly… scaly. She opened her eyes back up to see what exactly happened and to her absolute shock, she was riding on the back of the very monster she was supposed to kill—or die to.

She felt his rumbling voice as he spoke, **"Think nothing of it Dovahkiin. I only do this because of current events."**

She opened her lips to ask where they were, but he spoke before she did, **"Before you ask, I will answer. We are in a strange place. I know not of where we are, but I know this is not Nirn or any other realm I’ve been to. No. This is an entirely new world."** He continued as they flew away from the battle below. **"The energies of magicka are more concentrated than they were before, but they swirl around as if they were the winds themselves."**

He narrowed his eyes.

**"We've been displaced here, but by what being? I do not know. And that is what disturbs me the most out of these circumstances."**

She remained silent after he spoke, her mind still trying to wrap around the fact that they were in some strange and foreign dimension. She had gone through things no other common mortal has and this shouldn't have been any different, but somehow it struck at a particularly peculiar string, as if Sheogorath himself had designed the instrument. The greatest threat of her existence had just saved her life, she had been transported to some mysterious realm, and she was missing her most vital gear. If there was one thing she knew though, it was that this was going to make for another worthy tale the bards could sing forever.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's a bit on the shorter side...

Dreadlord Koroun eyed the skies warily from under his black helmet, tracking a winged creature he caught flying in the distance.

It was a dragon, the largest he had ever seen. He had no doubt in his mind that it was an ancient one too, a named one. Its scales glinted blindingly with blue and silver as it glided across the skies. 

_A storm dragon. The Asur must have called upon its aid for this battle_ , he thought ominously. _Such a creature would turn the tides of this battle._

The grip on his repeater crossbow—the Dragonslayer—tightened. He would do everything in his power to take it down before it entered the fray. As his imagination ran wild, his stern frown slowly transformed into a bloodthirsty grin. From setting its head on his trophy wall to laying with the countless women that would flock to his manor, the Witch King would indeed reward him for the feat. That, along with shaking the Asur’s morale with the sight of their glorious dragon falling to its death, would greatly please him to no end. After considering the few possible strategies there were and with the decisiveness of a bold leader, he brought his fingers to his lips and unleashed a loud whistle. In just a moment's delay, a black pegasus appeared from above, beckoning to his call. Mere seconds had passed before he was already mounted and in the air. With unmatched speeds and darkened silhouette, he and his mount graced the bright skies.

Nearby and flying above his troops he saw his personal regiment, the Raven Heralds, assigned to him by Malekith himself. They had been awaiting instructions since the battle began, impatient, impetuous, and thirsty for their cousins' blood. Their crossbows were armor piercing, crafted by the finest artisans of Naggarond, and they rode upon the swiftest of dark-bred pegasuses. Such a fine unit of warriors would suffice in helping take down a lone dragon. Granted he'd lose many, but the losses were already calculated in his head. It was a small price to pay compared to the thousands of Druchii the Dragon could reap like wheat on the battlefield. There was no alternative for such a rare beast. He had to catch it while it was alone and vulnerable as quickly and efficiently as he could.

And who else could do better than him? For nearly a millennium he had slain many of the Asur’s allied dragons. This one was just another trophy to mount on his glorious walls. 

With practiced precision he loaded his crossbow with the largest hide-piercing rounds in his inventory and pulled back its locking mechanism.

_The Shrine must be captured at all costs._

“Heralds to me!” he shouted and pointed at the distant dragon. “We shall slay the beast and bathe in its fiery blood!”

Without further delay he whipped his pegasus's reins causing it to shoot forward like a meteor. His men followed soon after, roaring with approval.

~//-*-\\\~

Nahrahstrun surveyed his surroundings as he flew at a steady beat.

 **"I sense a powerful Aedric artifact nearby, malevolent in its origin,"** he said to the elf on his back. **"I'll do my best to avoid it, but it’s up to you to resist its lure."**

She was still too deep in shock to respond. Even now the altmer was thinking of ways to escape.

 _Even if his words have some merit, he still cannot be trusted,_ she thought _. He is a malevolent dragon. His arrogance is beyond measure. He has done nothing to earn my trust except maybe… maybe…_

She groaned and massaged the area between her eyes.

_... save my life._

**“Does something disturb you, Dovahkiin?”** he perked up.

At his words, something sparked within her.

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I do,” she spat. “We were going to fight—to the death no less—and you just decided to-” she stopped mid sentence. “-to be my friend?”

She couldn’t admit to the fact that he saved her. It would make her seem weak and she couldn’t allow that. She would not stroke the ego of a prideful overgrown lizard.

If the ancient dovah noticed she was holding something back, he made no effort in showing it.

 **“I am not your friend, I am your ally, albeit temporarily.** ” The dragon's scales tensed as he narrowed his eyes. **“But this can be spoken more of later. I sense an immediate threat nearing us.”**

The Dragonborn was alarmed by his words and quickly surveyed the area to look for the aforementioned threat. Strangely though, wherever she cast her gaze, there was nothing to be seen, above or beyond, left or right, but that was only until she finally twisted her head around to glance towards the rear. Behind she saw them, a small horde of distant, dark figures.

She focused her eyesight.

_And are those… horses?_

Lo and behold they were being chased by winged black horses, mounted by crossbow-wielding warriors in ebony armor. Quite scary.

 **"Here."** Nahrahstun popped open his cavernous mouth and swung his head up. 

Out from his jaws came the very gear she was looking for before and she was stupefied by the fact that he was actually giving them to her. Nevertheless she shook out of her daze to catch them one by one. The first in her hand was the Dawnbreaker, then Auriel’s Shield, and finally her quiver of Sunhallowed arrows.

**"I thought you would need those."**

“I… thank you…” she replied in a low voice. This was a great surprise for her and her expression showed it. If he kept this up she’d be indebted to him. There would be no way she could bring herself to kill him.

**“Think nothing of it.”**

She smirked. _His speech had patterns_ , she thought. 

But her thoughts were promptly interrupted by a shout from behind.

“ _Kynthuithalkein_!" she heard a bellow in a foreign language.

_They caught up this quick?_

She whipped her head around and saw the dark crossbowmen following them. They were right on top of the dragon’s tail. Before she could have any second thoughts about fighting them, they took aim. Instinctively, and despite her lack of power earlier, she proceeded to pull up her spell shield; it was only by this pure battle compulsion that she was saved from a shower of bolts shot directly at her person. It was a miracle that she had enough magicka to create it, much less defend herself with it, and the impacts that resulted from this hail of bolts were strong. Her ward groaned slightly under pressure. The Dragonborn grew worried for the dragon under her as the shower continued, but saw that it was misplaced when the bolts simply bounced off his scales. But then appeared a projectile that drastically changed the playing field. It was large and it crackled with sorcerous energy as it accelerated towards her. Her instincts screamed at her to dodge but she had nowhere to move as she sat on top of the dragon. She could only grit her teeth and prepare for what came next. With a straining groan she poured as much magicka as she could into her spell shield and at the same time pulled up Auriel's Shield to bolster her defenses.

The bolt slammed into her ward with impossible velocity, but it held against all odds. Oddly enough, the bolt continued, drilling into her magical ward mercilessly, and soon cracks appeared in the membrane. Her eyes widened as they grew and grew in both number and size until eventually her magic broke, whatever fuel she had gathered for it utterly extinguished. The elf yelped as the missile proceeded to violently slam against Auriel's Shield and finally shatter, almost causing the poor woman wielding it to topple over and slip off the dragon’s scales. To maintain herself and stay firm in place it required the straining of all of her core muscles, but in the end she survived. She had defended herself successfully. As she fluttered past this fact, her taut lips softened and curved in satisfaction. 

She also took note that her shield was glowing, the light of it enough to blind her enemies, and her smile grew even more wider and menacing. With an exaggerated performance she unsheathed the Dawnbreaker and took a wide, gaudy swing at her own shield, bashing it once, loudly, proudly and violently. The results of this gamble were nothing short of incredible. Upon the moment of the collision an enormous and deafening shockwave of dazzling light was unleashed, sweeping away all of the surrounding clouds in the mile radius. The hunters fared much worse. Every single one of them was blown far away. Nearer ones died instantly from the wave’s sheer pressure and the rest of the elite contingent were dismounted.

The Dragonborn merely gaped in awe at the destruction she had caused. 

"Did you see that?" she asked in almost childlike wonder.

Nahrahstrun snorted. **"The whole world did. Why wouldn't I?"**

She continued to observe as the limp, winged horses began falling down along with their desperate, flailing owners.

"Good point…" she murmured. "... I wonder who they were."

 **“Whoever they were, they are dead now,”** he said grimly. **“And with death comes diplomatic repercussions. We must leave. Quickly.”**

She nodded slowly and tore her eyes away from the scene. 

~//-*-\\\~

Dreadlord Kouran wasn't near the blast when it commenced, but he certainly felt its effects. It blew him and his mount far. The ebony pegasus could do nothing but maintain altitude as it was spun away by a tidal wave of light and its owner was simply along for the ride. At the end of it the dark elf nearly vomited from the queasiness. Tumbling over and over in quick succession would test the mettle of any landwalker who dared to traverse the skies.

He began urging his mount forward back towards their target, but the pegasus whinnied in protest. Its muscles were much too exhausted and torn to be able to catch the dragon much less fight it. Their chances were slim, especially so with the fact that an entire unit of airborne skirmishers have just been put out of commission. The Dreadlord sighed as he took these facts in and relented. He began his descent in distraught. Malekith would be furious once he caught wind of this, but perhaps the punishment could be lessened. He would have to win his current battle and then catch up to his liege to bolster his forces.

~//-*-\\\~

The Witch King was still a good distance away from the Shrine of Khaine when suddenly he felt a second powerful surge of magic in the opposite direction. It was where one of his Dreadlords were fighting. Malekith paused his advance and narrowed his cold eyes.

 _Another?_ he thought hesitantly, though his eyes remained affixed unto the distant shrine. _Could it be Teclis?_

Although it was weaker than the first one—that of which was on par with the Vortex itself, powered by a multitude of world-class sorcerers—this one was still great enough to be of note. A sorcerer powerful enough to release that much energy was concerning.

… And yet his gaze was unchanging. _No matter_. _We must secure the Sword at all costs._

Without any further doubt he continued forward on his black dragon. He would show no weakness now, not after everything he's done. The intrusion of an unknown being was minor compared to the horrors that could be wrought if the princeling Tyrion drew the cursed blade of Khaine.

Unbeknownst to him this minor intrusion would soon grow into the largest this world had ever seen.

~//-*-\\\~

High above the elven lands of Ulthuan, a silver blue-streaked dragon could be seen trailing through the clouds. He was moving fast and the landscapes he was passing over were nothing but a blur to his current occupant.

"What do we do now?" the Dragonborn asked, her voice barely audible over the passing winds.

She didn't know whether he didn't hear her or didn't bother answering, but she waited, and as the seconds passed her restlessness could be seen visibly strewn across her face. 

"Dragon?" she voiced.

There still wasn't a single sign of acknowledgement from the overgrown lizard and she began to grip his scales tighter and tighter. It was only when she had lost count of time that she finally had enough, lest she tore them off in frustration. 

"Nahrahstrun!"

 **"Silence, Dovahkiin. I am trying to focus,"** he said, as if reprimanding a child.

Her hands loosened and for just a moment there was silence again.

"Focus on what, if I may ask?"

He remained quiet once more and the warrior maiden was inclined to do the same, albeit awkwardly. As time passed she grew bored. There was nothing to do, nothing to see, so she decided to simulate in her head how many draugr she could kill before he decided to talk again.

 _The flatlands near Whiterun have proved to be a suitable battleground_ , she thought as she started daydreaming.

By the time he decided to speak, she had already killed several thousand undead.

 **"This... is impossible,"** he said.

"What is?" she asked. Part of her was wondering if he was reading her mind again.

**"I cannot feel any ties to either Aetherious or Oblivion, so this place should Mundus, yet it is not."**

"Didn't you state that earlier?"

 **"It was merely a theory—a guess if you will. Now I fully understand what’s at stake. We are on an entirely alien plane, one that is not in any way connected to any of our’s."** His claws curled tightly. **"This is a different** **_universe_** **."**

A shiver rolled down her spine and spread across her entire back.

 _I'm in way over my head,_ the Dragonborn thought as she rubbed her arm.


End file.
